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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25346677">Blood is Thicker than Water</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/blu3boi/pseuds/blu3boi'>blu3boi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dungeons and Daddies, Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Gender Dysphoria, Glenn is a bad dad, Mild Blood, Probably ooc, Underage Substance Use, but not in a cool way, mild tw for ed, nick isn’t friend with the other sons yet</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:26:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,195</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25346677</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/blu3boi/pseuds/blu3boi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick begins to realize that he should start hanging out with other kids and not his dad all the time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>all the sons are tight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Nick’s 13th Birthday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i’m back on the “glenn is bad dad” boat and this is mainly me projecting so don’t @ me. this is might become a longer series or it could just be two chapters! who knows</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>            Nick Close drags a chair from the dining room table, puts it in front of the liquor cabinet, hops up and grabs a bottle of whiskey from the top. Glenn keeps the liquor cabinet opened and well stocked for both him and Nick to partake in, but he keeps a few more expensive bottles up top for special occasions. Nick normally doesn’t care about not getting the expensive stuff, but right now he’s pissed. Glenn has been on away for a little under a month, with it being the “Christmas in July” tour. He had trusted Nick enough to let him be on his own for that long, every week sending him money on CashApp for whatever he may need. Nick was at first a little worried seeing as his birthday is in July, but Glenn promised him he’d be home for it. July 30th came, but Glenn didn’t. Nick hops down from the chair and inspects the bottle. It’s a 12 year old Yamazki single malt whiskey, the bottle is sleek with Japanese characters on the label. Nick didn’t bother with grabbing a glass as he walked into the living room, plopping down on the couch. He could feel his phone vibrate in his pocket, he didn’t bother looking because he knew it was his dad giving another bullshit excuse as to why he couldn’t make it back in time. Anticipating how the whiskey would taste and make all his problems disappear momentarily, Nick attempted to twist the cap off but was met with resistance. He twisted and twisted yet nothing happened. Now even more pissed, Nick got up to the kitchen and grabbed a thin parring knife to hopefully break the seal of the bottle. He held the bottle under his arm while he positioned the tip of the knife at the edge of the cap. It took him a couple tries before he realized this plan wasn’t going to work. Nick slumped to the floor of the kitchen, defeated and tired. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How fucking pathetic is this? My dad forgot my birthday, none of my “friends' ' actually gave enough of a shit to come over, and I can’t get this </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>stupid </em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>bottle open</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Nick thought to himself as tears began to well up in his eyes. He brought his knees close to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, loudly sobbing to himself. His head full of negative thoughts about his father and friends, but mostly about himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If I wasn’t such an shit friend and fuck up of a son they’d be here right now. God this is all my fault isn’t it? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nick eyed the bottle again, the tears burning his eyes as the gears in his brain began to turn. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You know what? No! I’m a Close boy, we don’t take shit from nobody. Especially fucking bottles, I’m gonna open this bitch or die trying!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Filled with a new sense of determination after his pitiful pep talk, Nick went at the bottle with the knife again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>          Nothing seemed to work, and growing more and more frustrated, Nick had a stupid idea. He raised the bottle over his head, bringing the neck down on the corner of the kitchen sink. The neck shattered, sending shards of glass and alcohol flying in all directions. Nick, satisfied with his idea working, didn’t bother to care about how much the cuts on his skin stung. He looked into the broken bottle to make sure no glass shards fell in it, he couldn’t see any and that was good enough for him. He carefully raised the bottle to his lips, trying in vain to not cut his mouth. Tilting his head back, allowing the smooth whiskey to travel all the way down into the empty pit inside him. Instant warmth filled Nick’s body, yet despite how smooth the alcohol was suppose to be it still felt like a rock in his stomach. Drinking always made him feel really sick but he ignored how his body felt in favor of how his mind will feel. In a little under an hour the bottle was almost empty. Nick’s mouth was on fire from the alcohol seeping into the cuts on his lips, but everything else was numb which was what he wanted. Staring into the bottom of the bottle before he took his last sip, Nick signed. The clock on the microwave said it was only a little after 1 p.m. It was the middle of beautiful summer day, yet he sat alone, surrounded by glass and blood in his dark kitchen. He took the final swig from the bottle, fishing a shard of glass out of his mouth. With a stomach full of nothing but alcohol and a brain empty of most thoughts, Nick pulled himself up from the ground, using the counter for support. Belligerently stumbling though the kitchen, stepping on glass as he did, Nick went back to his original spot on the couch. He sat in quiet pain and bliss for awhile, not sure how much time was passing but also not really caring, when he felt his phone buzz again. Letting out a huge sigh, suddenly remembering the reason he got so drunk in the first place, Nick regretfully took his phone out of his pocket preparing himself for the same old excuses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Nick! I’m sorry I couldn’t make it back. Some crazy shit went down while trying to cross the border from Mexico to California. I promise I’ll make it up to you dude ;)” Nick scoffs, knowing that the tour didn’t take place in Mexico at all. At least he’ll probably get something cool out of this. He did have a text that took him by surprise, the most recent one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“yo dude you busy today? was wondering if you wanted to go to the skatepark or sum thing :p” It was a text from Terry, a guy on his soccer team that he sometimes hangs out with at the skatepark. Trying to sober up as fast as he could, Nick quickly types back, attempting to not sound desperate for human interaction</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“yea. what time lol” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“i was thinking like 3 or 4”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“4 is cool”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“sick ill see you then :)”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>          Nick stared at his phone for a long time. He wasn’t particularly close with any of the guys on his soccer team. The twins were in his grade but only because they skipped a year so in his eyes they were babies. Grant and Terry were gonna be in eighth grade this year and Nick always felt like a third wheel when he hung out with them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Terry was the only one he hung out with outside of school because they’d run into each other at the skatepark. It would be nice to get outside for a little bit though and get away from his house. Nick thought of ways he could sober up in time. He got up from the couch and stumbled his way to the kitchen, this time trying to avoid the glass as he went to make a pot of coffee. It took awhile for Nick to begin to feel back to normal, but as soon as he did he ran to his room to look for an outfit. The Close boys take great pride in their appearances, and right now Nick was in an old band tee that was dad’s, and three day old boxers. Planning the perfect outfit was hard, not wanting to dress too good as to not look like you’re trying to hard, but also dressing good enough that when you leave people are still thinking about you. After about 30 minutes of making his room a mess, Nick found the perfect outfit. Rushing to the bathroom to look at himself, Nick frowned. He picked a piece of glass from his unkempt hair and stared at his blotchy, red cheeks and puffy eyes and the dried blood surrounding his mouth. He quickly hopped in the shower, not sure last time he took one. Towel wrapped around his hair and body, Nick went through the normal routine of getting ready, spending a little extra time brushing his teeth trying to get rid of the smell of the whiskey. After getting everything on, Nick stared at himself in the mirror. Still a little unsatisfied with the boy staring back. He didn’t have the time to think about that right now, so he grabbed his skateboard from his room, locked the front door and made his way down the street to the skate park.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>         The park was surprisingly empty, only a few people were there but they weren’t really doing anything besides talking, so it was pretty easy to spot Terry. He was leaning against a rail, looking bored at his phone. Nick skated over to Terry, who looked up from his phone when he heard the noise from the skateboard, and smiled at Nick. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nick! Sorry for making plans such short notice, I honestly didn’t know if you were doing anything today.” Nick looked at Terry somewhat confused as he reached down by his feet and grabbed a small Tupperware container. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I know it’s your birthday today so I asked my mom if we could make something for you. All the other guys' birthdays are during the school year so I bring them little treats and stuff, and I would’ve felt bad if I didn’t get you anything. I know it’s not much but trust me they’re so good.” Nick, with shaky hands took the gift and stared down at the container, four perfect looking chocolate cupcakes sat side by side, the frosting slightly squished up against the wall of the container. Terry stared at the dumbfounded Nick, worried that this was too weird of a thing to do after all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah...wow um, t-thanks dude-“ was all Nick could managed to choke out before he began sobbing, fat tears landing on the lid of the Tupperware. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit, dude are you okay?” Terry reached out his hand, placing it on Nick’s trembling shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N-no I’m good. It’s just,” Nick looked up at Terry, his hot tears ruining his eyeliner, “this is just the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Terry, now the one staring dumbfounded suggested they went to a more private part of the park. They ended up finding benches where parents would normally sit to watch their kids and sat down. Terry watched as Nick wiped the tears from his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry you had to see me like that dude. I’ve had a pretty rough day today.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to apologize, I get it.” Terry thought about what would be the next best thing to say. “Um, do you want to talk about that? If not that’s cool, we can just sit if that’s what you want.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think just sitting would be nice.” And so the two boys sat in silence as Nick began to open the container. He pulled out one of the delicate cupcakes, holding out the container to Terry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, I’m good! I have left over cupcakes at home. Plus, these are supposed to be for you!” Terry smiled earnestly at Nick, who shrugged his shoulders.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Cool, more cupcakes for me.” Nick peeled back the paper from the cupcake and took a huge bite, just now realizing this is the first thing he’s eaten in three days. Nick can’t describe his pallet as </span>
  <em>
    <span>sophisticated </span>
  </em>
  <span>or </span>
  <em>
    <span>complex</span>
  </em>
  <span>, food in the Close household is seen as more of an inconvenience than something to savor. He eats what is there and what is fast, if he remembers to eat at all. However, when he bit into that cupcake, his brain lit up. The frosting was chocolate but there was something different about it. A tanginess one can only get from a cheese cream frosting, and little spice from cinnamon. The cake itself was crumbly and decadent, there was definitely some coffee in it, which just brought out the chocolate flavor even more. Terry watched Nick in his </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ratatouille </span>
  </em>
  <span>moment, and smiled. His favorite thing about baking was watching the reactions of people as they tried the dessert for the first time. His smile quickly faded however, as he watched Nick begin to somewhat ravenishly eat the cupcake and pull out another. Nick had gone longer without eating, not on purpose he simply just  forgot, but whenever he’d break one of these fasts it seemed like all the hunger he should of had comes rushing to him, making him binge on a large amount of food in one sitting. Unfortunately, that familiar feeling of hunger rises in him, as he feels Terry’s hand grab his wrist, breaking him out of eating.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nick you have to slow down! You already ate three of them!” Nick looked down at the container, sure enough, only one cupcake remained. He looks away from Terry sheepishly and stares at the ground, noticing only two cupcake wrappers. Terry sees his confused expression as he lets go of his wrist.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought stopping you would be the best thing to do after you ate the wrapper of that last one.” Nick’s face goes hot with embrassessment while he hopelessly wipes his mouth with his sleeve. Despite just eating, Nick’s stomach lets out a large groan, demanding more. The concern in Terry grows as he puts the lid back on the container. He watches Nick tap his foot uncomfortably, while he debates what to do. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know what I-I’m gonna go. Thanks for the cupcakes, they were fucking amazing, and I’m sorry for being weird.” Unsure of how long they’d been sitting in silence, Terry looks up to Nick who is grabbing his skateboard and attempting to leave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait! Nick don’t go! I don’t think you’re weird.” Nick looks over his shoulder to say another self deprecating “joke”, but is stopped before he can speak. “Do you wanna come over for dinner tonight?” Nick stares at Terry, thrown by his offer. Nick honestly can’t remember the last time he had a home cooked meal. Glenn can’t cook anything besides pot brownies, and Nick could barely operate the oven, so most of the food he ate was take-out. The idea of sitting at a table, eating food someone you know made, was so foreign to him. With hesitation, Nick answered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um, yeah. That sounds cool.” A wave of relief crashed onto Terry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Great! My mom is making lasagna tonight and it slaps so hard.” Terry got up and gestured for Nick to follow him. Terry led Nick back to his bike and began to ride back to his house, Nick holding onto his shirt while on his skateboard. Terry debated asking Nick about the whole cupcake thing and how he’s seemingly starving, but he didn’t want to scare him off again. If the one year of Nick being in soccer taught him anything, is that you have to approach Nick slowly. Sure he can get along with anyone, but you really have to put in an effort if you want to see the real Nicholas Close. So the pair rode in silence, Nick pretending to cough when he felt his stomach rumble. He soon began to feel the hunger pangs hit hard, but Nick pushed through the pain as he and Terry arrived at the Stampler Residences.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Dinner with the Stamplers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nick had dinner at the Stamplers.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>slight tw for vomiting. there’s no details it’s just mentioned briefly.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>         Nick had never been to Terry’s house before with the Wilson’s (Darryl) always being the ones to volunteer to host for soccer related events. The Stampler residence is a very modest, small two story yellow house, with a few rose bushes underneath the windows. Warm light spilled through the cracks of the drawn curtains, offering a feeling of hospitality as the two boys made their way into the garage. Terry instructed Nick to leave his skateboard in the garage as he opened the door to his house. They walked into a small mudroom, Nick instinctively taking off his shoes before entering the house proper, while Terry just kept walking into his home. The first thing that hit Nick was the smell. The aromas of cheese, garlic, basil, and tomatoes filled his senses, he never smelled something so intoxicating before. Despite how </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>the food smelled, Nick began to feel his stomach turn. The sweet sugary cupcakes, disagreeing greatly with the bottle of whiskey. Following Terry into the kitchen, he saw Terry’s mom, Samantha. It always struck him as strange how much taller Terry was than Samantha, he assumed given Terry’s height both of his parents had to be giants but clearly that’s not the case. Samantha was humming quietly to herself while she chopped a cucumber, when she noticed the two boys she smiled and put the knife in her hand next to the cutting board.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi Teej,” She walks over to Terry and tussles his hair, “and Nick.” Nick gives an uncharacteristically shy wave to Samantha.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi mom, um, can Nick stay for dinner?” Samantha laughed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course! The more the merrier. Do you two wanna wash up and help me? Or do you two just wanna have some guy time until dinners ready?” Terry looked to Nick, who looked pale and ill, he could almost feel the uneasiness radiating off of him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we’ll just go to my room for now if that’s alright.” Samantha nodded, also noticing Nick’s strange behavior.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s okay Teej, I’ll come get you two when everything’s ready.” She went back to the cutting board as Terry led Nick upstairs to his room. When they were out of ear shot from Samantha, Nick grabbed Terry’s sleeve desperately. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Where is your bathroom? I think I’m gonna throw up.” The feeling of panic transferred to Terry as he quickly ran up the stairs with Nick and brought him to the bathroom </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Terry stood awkwardly by the door, waiting for Nick to finish up. When he finally heard the bathroom door open, he turned and saw Nick. His skin was slightly sallow and the bags under his eyes were dark.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You look like shit.” Terry teased. Nick flashed him a smirk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel like shit. Who knew mixing whiskey and three cupcakes was a bad idea.” Terry looked bewildered by what Nick had said.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You drank whisky?” He whispered in a low voice, worried that his mom would somehow hear them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Nick paused, suddenly remembering that’s not something that most middle schoolers do. “It’s cool though. My dad is fine with it.” Terry let out a small, concerned hum. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let's talk about this in my room.” Nick nodded in agreement and followed Terry. Now that his mind was no longer preoccupied with the idea of ruining Terry’s carpet, Nick began to scan the hallway. The Stampler house was a lot nicer than his. It was clean, smelled nice, and there were actually photos on the wall, it felt more like a house than the crash pad Nick was used to. Terry opens the door to his room, flicking on the light switch, Nick follows him in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>        Terry’s room is very modest but dark. In contrast to the rest of the welcoming light colors of the other rooms in the house, Terry’s walls are painted a dark gray. The room felt very small but it’s tidy. The bed is neatly made, there is no clutter on the desk or on top of the dressers, and not a single piece of discarded clothing lays on the floor. Terry would call it “modern minimalist”, but with the posters of bands on the wall with names like “Avenged Sevenfold” and “In this Moment”, Nick would say that Terry is just angsty and wanted his wall black but compromised on gray for Samantha sake. There are a few things that stick out of the modern minimalist/edgy aesthetic of the room.Yellow fairy lights are wrapped around the headboard of the bed, giving an inviting glow to the otherwise cold room. A single framed photo hangs on the wall, from where Nick is standing it looks like a group photo of their soccer team. Leaning against Terry’s dessert is a large, rectangular case for a keyboard, it’s covered in colorful stickers, a small polaroid taped to it. As Nick enters the room he tries to see who the photo is of, but stops when he sees it's of a younger Terry and a man who looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>like him. Terry turns on the lamp that resides on his nightstand. Sitting down on his bed he gestures for Nick to do the same as well. Nick obliges, hoping on the bed with enough force that he bounces slightly. Terry watches as Nick makes himself comfortable, sitting fully on the bed, leaning back on to Terry’s pillows for support.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you done yet?” Terry says, sounding amused. Nick gives a few more wiggles, digging himself deeper into the bed, almost completely unmaking it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Now I’m done.” His smile faded as he remembered what Terry wanted to talk about. “Listen you don’t have to worry about the alcohol thing. It’s chill and I honestly don’t drink that much.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well you just threw up in my bathroom so I’d disagree with that.” Terry hesitated, this was weird. He never really had a serious conversation with Nick before. “I really don’t care about you drinking if your dad says it’s cool. I mean I’m not your dad, but what I do care about is how...does your dad feed you?” Nick is left stunned by Terry's question.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“O-of course my dad feeds me! What kind of question is-“</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why are you so hungry all the time? I’ve noticed how you always seem to eat really fast, like during lunch at school and like snacks during soccer. You don’t have to lie to me Nick, I won’t judge you or your dad.” Terry places his hand on Nick’s shoulder, an overwhelming concern in his voice and eyes. “You can trust me dude.” They sit in silence for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>long</span>
  </em>
  <span> time. This was a lot for Nick to process, no one really took notice to him like this before. A part of him wants to get defensive, tell Terry to mind his own business, to defend his father from this accusation. Yet, another part of him feels appreciative, that someone actually saw him, realized something about himself that he didn’t. It felt nice to be seen. Nick grabs Terry’s hand off his shoulder, he’s not the biggest fan of being touched.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for caring…it’s really not that big of deal. I just tend to forget to eat most of the time.” He starts to fiddle with the strings on his jacket.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know, my dad isn’t really home a lot because of work so I really don’t have anyone to remind me to eat. If that makes sense.” Nick watched Terry nervously, worried he was going to get a lecture him on how that’s not an excuse or that he should try harder. Terry simply just nodded.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That makes sense. We should go see if my mom needs any help.” Terry got up from the bed and went to open the door, looking back over his shoulder at the confused Nick. “Are you coming or are you just gonna stay in here and go through my stuff?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh right!” Nick scrambled off the bed and followed Terry to the kitchen, still nervously twiddling with the sting. “So...you’re not gonna yell at me?” Terry laughed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would I? I’m not gonna yell at you for having a bad memory dude.” Nick smiled at Terry’s words as they entered the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the night was uneventful and calm. Nick and Terry helped set the table while Samantha continued with making the salad. Eating with the Stampler’s was a whole new experience for Nick. The food was amazing, a thousand times better than the frozen lasagna Glenn bought. The cheese was crispy on the top but gooey everywhere else, Nick didn’t even care about the vegetables in it, it was that good. It was strange to sit at a table and eat, he was used to just sitting on the couch and watching tv. It was nice to have a conversation while eating though. Trying not to laugh whenever Terry gave him a weird look when Ron spoke, answering Samantha’s questions between bites, and also giving Ron a weird look when he asked questions. After the meal was finished, the table cleared and leftovers put away, Ron on dishes duty, Samantha walked over to the boys.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey Nick,” Her smile was kind and warm in a way that reminded Nick of his mom, “it’s starting to get pretty dark out. You’re welcomed to stay the night or I could give you a ride home. I don’t want you walking home in the dark.” A sleepover would be nice, but his dad did say he’d be home today.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“A ride would be nice Mrs. Stampler.” Nick knew how weird old people got when you called them by their name so he just went along.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please Nick, you can call me Samantha.” She looked but over to Ron who was elbow deep in soap water. “Terry, how about you stay here and help your stepfather with the dishes.” Terry groaned loudly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Mom!” He whined, speaking loud enough for Ron to hear. “But he sucks. I don’t want to spend time </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone </span>
  </em>
  <span>with him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Terrance Junior, go help Ron with the dishes.” Terry went wide eyed after Samantha busted out the full name shuffle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry mom,” he waved sheepishly to Nick, who was failing to hold in his laugh, “I’ll see you later Nick.” </span>
</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Samantha and Nick made their way to her minivan, Nick grabbing his skateboard and cupcake before hopping in. Samantha buckles up and starts the car, and stares at Nick before she starts driving. Nick notices her looking at him and gives her a confused look.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Seat belt? I’m not driving until you put a seat belt on bud.” Oh yeah, seat belts, most adults want you to wear those. Nick quickly clicks his seat belt and gives Samantha a thumbs up. Samantha smiles and gently tussles his hair, normally anyone touching his hair would make him upset but he feels comfort when Samantha does it. They drive in comfortable silence for awhile, until Samantha decides to break the silence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So Nick, did you have a good birthday today? Must’ve been an exciting one, turning 13 and all that fun stuff.” Nick feels his blood run cold. He can’t tell Terry’s mom that he spent most of his 13th birthday alone and drunk.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Um yeah it was fine...my dad still had to work today so that was a bit of a bummer.” Nick notices the sad expression on Samantha’s face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But we're gonna do something cool when he gets back so that’s nice.” Samantha gives a similar hum that Terry does when something upsets him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well that’s nice honey,” Nick was always a little jealous of Terry, his mom was so kind, “if you ever want to come over again, you’re always welcomed in our home okay? You’re a good kid Nick.” Her words made Nick feel fuzzy. A grin spread across his face that he tried to hide by looking out the window.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds cool...thanks Samantha.” Samantha gently squeezes his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Anytime kiddo.” Samantha let her hand fall back to the wheel and they continued in silence until they made it to Nick’s house. His eyes lit up immediately when he saw his dad's car in the driveway. Samantha parked behind the car and watched as Nick hurriedly unbuckled his seat belt and grabbed his stuff. He said a quick goodbye to Samantha as he rushed to the door. Opening the door, his excitement slowly started fading when he saw all the lights in the house weren’t on. He flipped on the light switch, illuminating the messy living room, allowing him to see Glenn, passed out on the couch. Nick slowly crept into the house, sneaking past his unconscious father and into the kitchen. On the counter were bags of groceries. Nick signed as he put his skateboard and the cupcake down to put the groceries away. Most of it was the standard stuff, frozen pizza, chips, ramen, microwaveable tv dinners, and the likes, but in one bag there was something Nick didn’t expect. A store bought chocolate cake with the words, “Sorry Dude, Happy Birthday” written on it with frosting. Nick laughed quietly to himself, trying not to wake up his father when he saw the cake. After all the groceries were put away, Nick cut himself a slice and made his way to the living room. He threw a blanket over Glenn, then squished himself onto the couch, Glenn’s legs resting on his lap. Turning on the tv to a cheesy horror movie, Nick took a bite of the cake. Thinking to himself as he sat next to his exhausted father and watched as the lead actress of the movie ran from the killer, he thought about how much this cake </span>
  <em>
    <span>sucked </span>
  </em>
  <span>compared to Samantha and Terry’s.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yay i finally finished this chapter!! what is the next chapter gonna be about?? idk but i promise it’ll be less sad than the first two chapters.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Gardening with the Oak-Garcia’s</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Oak-Garcia’s are... strange. Still, they are the most laid back of the other parents and are Glenn’s first option of who watches Nick when he’s... busy.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>did i lose the motivation for this? yes. did i get it back as soon as school started again? also yes. anyway mercedes!! what a gal.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sonny: aye when r u gonna be here??? practice has been done 4 lik 10 mins :///</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pops: bruh i thought i told ya the oak’s r bringing u home my b dude</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sonny: ???? why cant u??? </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pops: its complicated dude. got caught up in sum. u might have to stay the night ngl </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sonny: …</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pops: thats cool right? ill come and get ya whenever this thing is finished and get ya ice cream or sum shit</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sonny: no yeah its cool. i’ll see you whenever i guess</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pops: 🤘</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sonny: 🤘</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>         Nick shuts his phone off and shoves it in his bag and exits the bathroom stall he was changing in. The locker room is pretty much empty, Nick liked that. Sitting down next to Grant, who's currently rewrapping his sprained ankle, Darryl argued that he could tough it out like his dad had made him, Nick dramatically drapes himself on the bench. Grant doesn’t give him the attention he was expecting. Nick lets out a huge, exaggerated sigh, causing Grant to give him a weird look before rolling his eyes and going back to the task at hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“UGH! Grant you’re useless!” Nick swings his arms to get the momentum to sit up, feet still on the bench.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I- what? I literally did nothing but go off.” Nick rolls his eyes and groans a groan that could send a chill down any parent's spine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s why you're useless, you did nothing.” Nick explained. “You’re supposed to ask me what’s wrong??”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How was I- ugh fine. Sir Close will you please tell me what is ailing you?” Grant was being an ass, which Nick appreciates as he gives him a friendly punch in the arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to be a dick about it. I have to spend the night at the Oak-Garcia’s tonight.” Nick moaned as Grant gave him a confused look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re… having a sleepover and that is making you upset?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s not that. My dad was gonna hangout with me tonight, like ya know, Saturdays are for the boys. But he can't for some reason so he’s dumping me with the Oak’s and it’s just… it’s annoying.” Nick never really complained about his dad, he mostly just talked about how cool he was and re-told his stories. It’s a shock to both Grant and Nick that he’s being this open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that- that sucks dude. Do you want me to like, ask my dad if I can stay over, maybe get TJ to come too? Make like a night of it.” Grant offered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s- it’s fine. The twins are cool, and so is Merc, just don’t wanna deal with Henry.” As if saying his name summoned him, Henry pops his head into the locker room.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nicholas, did your father tell you that you’re staying the night with us? We’re ready to go when you are kiddo!” His peppy voice is grating to Nick, who gets up with his practice bag and goes to follow Henry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks for the offer dude but it’s cool. Later man.” Nick throws the horns and lets Henry lead him to the car. Hoping in shotgun, the twins already in the back, Nick looks to Henry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why can’t I just go home? It’s not like I haven’t been home alone before.” His words sounded more bitter than he had meant. Henry starts up the car and begins to drive, doing his best to ignore the twins roughhousing for the moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, you see Nicholas-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just call me Nick.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay. You see Nick, your dad is busy </span>
  <em>
    <span>at</span>
  </em>
  <span> your house, so you can’t really come back for a while.” Nick gets a puzzled look on his face, trying to figure out what the hell his dad was doing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmm I believe he said that he needs to remove all the paraphernalia from the homestead as police officers are going to search your home!” Lark is able to break free of Sparrow’s grasp long enough to chime in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah language Nick, I know your father lets you swear but not in front of my boys. And yes that’s what happening and Lark! How the heck did you know that?” Lark currently has Sparrow in a headlock, unfazed by how his brother is biting and scratching at his arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We were listening in on your conversation father!” Sparrow wriggles free of the headlock, grabs Lark’s hair, and yanks Lark towards him, Lark now being the one in the headlock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes father, there hasn’t been a single conversation we haven’t listened to. Our stealth is immense and powerful.” Sparrow adds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ya know, I’m not really surprised. A-and boys, could you be a little less violent. I know you’re just messing around but this is a little much.” Henry adds, thankful that he doesn’t see blood yet. Both twins stop for a second and look up at Henry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Certainly!” They say as they immediately go back to fighting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, did my dad get arrested? What the fuck is happening?” Nick’s mind was racing. What would happen if Glenn went to jail? Would he get taken away? Put in some stranger’s home? Would he never see his dad again? Glenn was all he had, he was all Glenn had. They couldn’t lose each other. Nick didn’t notice how his breathing was getting faster, but Henry did. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Nick looks over to Henry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s gonna be okay Nick. You don’t have to worry about this. This adult stuff and us adults can handle it.” His voice sounded calm and comforting but Nick didn’t want that. Pushing off Henry’s hand, Nick crosses his arms and stares out the window.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah okay, whatever you say dude.” The rest of the ride is quiet besides the twins grunts and laughter from the back seat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>     Arriving at the Oak-Garcia’s was different. They’re yard was wild and unruly compared to all other yards. Tall grasses and wildflowers growing in place of the green grass Nick was used to seeing in front lawns. Hopping out of the driver seat, bag slung over his shoulder, Nick feels his hands being yanked. The twins had rushed out of the car as soon as it had stopped, and now they were dragging Nick towards the yellow house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Friend Nicholas, we must show you our room! As it is where we shall be accommodating you!” Sparrow yells to Nick despite him being right there. Getting used to the twins' way of speaking took awhile to get used to. Nick had just assumed they were probably homeschooled given the nature of this whole hippie family weird ways. It was more of a shock that they weren’t from some weird cult and they were just this way because that’s how they are. Nick grew to appreciate it, how they did their thing and didn’t let anyone bother them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>       Feeling like his arms would get pulled out of their sockets, Nick follows along with the twins into the house. The inside is much more cluttered than he had expected, but an organized clutter. Little knick-knacks and photos lay in various shelves hanging from the wall. Plants seemingly bursting from everywhere, small shells and interesting rocks lie between drawings and photos in bookshelves, books being next to the pictures. It’s cozy and filled with life in a way that reminds him of his house. Nick doesn’t have much time to stare as he kicks off his shoes and is dragged upstairs. They stop in front of a door covered with hand written “keep out” signs. The twins do not let go of Nick’s hands until they are in the room. The room is surprisingly tidy for a place where the twins sleep. Pressed against the blue wall is a bunk bed, “Lark” is carved into the wood on the top bunk and “Sparrow” carved into the bottom bunk. An abundant amount of stuffed animals sit on both of their beds, Sparrow’s having slightly more, their bed sheets and blankets match. It is incredibly cute. Hanging from the corner of the room is a suspended, hanging chair that looks super cozy. There’s an art desk and several art supplies on a shelf next to it. The wall adjacent to their dressers is a chalk wall, a huge mural of various animals is drawn on it currently. Nick sets his bag down as the twins flop down into one bean bag chair, gesturing for Nick to sit in the other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sweet digs little dudes.” Nick flops down into the bean bag, sinking into it as the air expresses from it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Indeed!” Exclaims Sparrow, looking to Lark, almost as if he was expecting him to finish the sentence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Father and Mother decided that our room should be a “calm” place which is boring. We’ve compromised by having the rest of the home be not that.” Lark adds, finishing the sentence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That makes sense. I kinda just hangout in my room most of the time.” There was a beat of awkward silence, well not for the twins. Nick was sure they’ve never felt awkward in their lives. He felt awkward, never really having to talk to them by himself. Going from hanging out in a big group to one on one, well one on two time was strange. Still, the twins seemed as rambunctious as ever. Springing up from the beanbag, the two drive by grab Nick’s hands, pulling him to his feet and out the door. Sparrow looks back to the very confused Nick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We got bored! We’re gonna show you the backyard.” How they had been able to communicate that idea to each other without speaking was freaky. The twins are freaky in general so Nick goes along, not as if he had a choice not to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>       The Oak-Garcia’s backyard is truly a sight to see. The most eye catching thing is the large oak tree in the middle of the wild, unruly grass. Yet, Nick’s eyes are pulled towards a huge, bountiful garden as his body is pulled toward the tree. A tire swing hangs from one of the branches, Lark letting go of Nick’s hand to pounce on it. Nick watches as Lark begins to shimmy up the rope, a surprising amount of upper body strength for his scrawny frame. Finally underneath the tree, Nick can see that a small platform is nestled among the branches. Sparrow had managed to squirrel his way up the rope, now Nick can see the twins leaning over the side of the plate from, their tangled blonde hair dangling in their faces.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nicholas! Are you coming up?” Lark calls out. Nick wipes his hand on his shirt, deciding to throw his jacket off. Hopping up on the tire swing, it takes a moment for him to find his balance as the swing wobbles back and forth. Standing on top of the swing, Nick attempts to climb his way up the rope. It’s much harder than how the twins had made it look. They were probably used to climbing up this and climbing trees. They also weren’t wearing binders, Nick hadn’t expected to be doing any physical stuff so it’s not that loose. Eventually, Nick is able to make it up the rope and to the platform. Sprawling onto the platform, his lungs burning and hands sore, Nick just breathes for a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nicholas, are you okay? Are you under duress? Must we save you?” There’s a concerning amount of glee in Lark’svoice as the two lean over Nick. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no. I’m cool, just a little out of breath.” Nick sits up, starting to feel a little better, already dreading the climb back down. Now that he was up here he could appreciate how sick this was. Looking up into the branches, light barely being able to break through the thick leaves, Nick notes how much colder it is up here. Peeking over the edge of the platform, Nick quickly pulls his legs fully onto the wooden board seeing how high up they are.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” he stands up, the board bending ever so slightly, not used to the extra weight, “what is this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brother and I are making a treehouse!” Sparrow chirps excitedly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Unfortunately father will not let us use any power tools. Or saws. Or hammer and nails. Or really anything you need to build a treehouse.” Lark adds, a little dejected. Sparrow reaches into the bib of his overalls and pulls out a mismatch hand full of nails.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But! We’ve managed to steal supplies from the workshop at school every day. Little by little we shall finally have enough to make the most awesome treehouse!” Nick watches as Sparrow bends down in front of a wooden crate full of various different supplies needed for building something. Nick is very worried about his safety seeing they had stolen a saw already, but also very impressed. Maybe he can get them to steal back his switch from Ms. Melcher. Fuck Ms. Mechler. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pollitos! Nicholas! Can you come down for a moment? I need your guys’ help with the garden.” Nick recognizes the voice as Mercedes and gets very excited. Despite also being a weird hippie, Mercedes was a lot cooler than Henry. She seemed really busy, usually never coming to practice, but she always made it to games and boy, could she yell. Nick remembers one time when he was benched during a game, Mercedes teaching him different chants he could yell from the sidelines. Mercedes was definitely one of his favorite parents of the other boys. The twins lean over the side of the platform, Sparrow quickly hiding the wooden crate again before joining Lark. Nick says fuck it and does the same thing </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you need from us, mother?” Lark calls down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need help picking some veggies and some help with making dinner.” Mercedes notices the expressions on the twins faces and decides to add something to sweeten the pot. “I’ll make arroz con leche for dessert tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>        The bribe works as both the twins spring to their feet, Lark taking the rope of the tire swing in his hands, sliding down it like a firefighter would slide down a pole. Nick cringes as he imagines the rope burn he’s gonna get from doing that. Once Sparrow reaches the ground, Nick reluctantly grabs the rope. After a moment of psyching himself up, Nick slides down the rope as well. The rope burns cause him to let out a small yelp as he flies down faster than he had expected. Before he can go crashing into the tire, he feels arms catch him. Mercedes mom instincts had kicked as she watched Nick begin to come down. It wasn’t hard to calculate that something bad would happen while he was over, that was the nature of her boys. Letting go of Nick so he can hop off the tire swing, Mercedes takes Nick’s hands in hers to inspect his palms. They looked as if they had been rubbed raw but nothing too bad.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh mijo, are you alright?” As Mercedes dotes over Nick, the twins pull at her arms, causing her to look up from Nick’s hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mother, while you tend to Nicholas, brother and I shall begin harvesting.” Sparrow states, Lark nodding his head in agreement. Mercedes lets out a mom sigh and looks to her boys.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pollitos, do you think you can entertain yourselves while I go and clean up Nicholas’ hands? You boys should really get a ladder for that.” Nick wants to pull his hands away. Say he’s fine, that this is nothing. He stays though, it felt nice to be cared for. Have someone worry about him. Have a </span>
  <em>
    <span>mom </span>
  </em>
  <span>worry about him. It was different and it was… it was really nice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>         The twins get grins on their faces as they go to scramble back up the tree. Mercedes rolls her eyes, watching them as they go up, making sure nothing bad happens. Turning her attention back to Nick, she starts to walk him towards the house, tapping Henry in to watch the twins as they walk past him to the bathroom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You never answered me by the way mijo. How are you feeling?” Nick stands awkwardly, watching as Mercedes digs through a small medicine bag. Pulling out things Nick has never seen. Different holistic creams and liquids, weird hippie shit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m good, you really don’t have to make a big deal about this. It’s just a little scrape.” Finally getting what she was looking for, a small spray bottle of what Nick could only imagine was hydrogen peroxide. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Palms up chico.” Nick listens to Mercedes directions, turning his palms upward. Taking the small hands in her own, Mercedes sprays the rope burns, Nick flinching in reflex before realizing it doesn’t hurt. The white foam appears around the scratches, Mercedes letting them sit on Nick’s hands for a moment before patting his hands dry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmh, you’re right. I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to make a big deal, but I want to.” She gives him a warm smile, rubbing some sort of cream onto his hands. Nick didn’t know what it was for but it felt nice on his “injuries”.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright, if you really want to dude. It’s honestly super chill.” Pressing a, probably biodegradable, bandaid to one of the larger, more raw looking burns, Mercedes smiles at Nick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nonsense Nicholas, what kind of hostess would I be if I didn’t give you the same treatment I give my own boys?” Ruffling his hair as she walks past, Nick quickly fixing his hair as he follows, Mercedes goes to make her way back to the garden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever gardened before?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, my mom used to have a garden in the backyard. It's overgrown now but I have vague memories of helping her a little bit.” Preparing himself for the spiel of “I’m sorry for your loss” that he usually gets when he brings up his mom, Nick is surprised when Mercedes doesn’t really react.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, I knew something about you screamed that you had a green thumb.” She stops in front of the sliding glass door to the backyard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The garden is a little muddy today. I’d ditch the socks and roll up your pant legs before coming out.” Nick listens, slipping off his socks and yanking his pant legs up. They only made their way up to his mid calf, stupid skinny jeans. Sliding the door open Mercedes assumes Nick is going to follow. Which he tries to but is almost knocked over by the twins barreling past him, Henry hot on their trail, yelling something about “no squirrels in the house”. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>       Finally getting outside, having been stopped again by the Oak-Garcia’s dog walking out the open door, flopping in the tall grass, giving a good ol roll, Nick gives a look to Mercedes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you gonna- shouldn’t we help Henry?” Mercedes is knee deep in a tomato plant, searching for the ripe, red tomatoes hidden amongst the green leaves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmh, no. It’s Henry’s turn to watch them. I’m making dinner tonight.” Weird dynamic but okay. Nick walks the perimeter of the garden, trying to identify the different vegetables and fruits. Most of them were already harvested, leaving several barren spots of dirt between beautiful plants. Not paying attention to where he’s walking, Nick does not see the goat in front of him, bumping into the grazing creature.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“SHIT! Oh fuck, my bad dude.” The goat seems… un-bothered as it continues to munch on the grass in front of it. Mercedes however, perks up at Nick’s yelling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Chico! Are you alright?” Pulling herself up from the ground, her knees cracking in a way she’s still not used to, she spots Nick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh no, I’m fine. Just bumped into uh… your goat?” Was it even legal to own a goat in the city? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah, okay. Do you wanna come over here and lend a hand mijo?” Nick gives her a thumbs up and makes his way over, only after debating if he should pet the goat or not. He doesn’t, animals were too wily anyways. Stepping over vines and trying to miss any rocks on the ground, Nick gets over to Mercedes. She hands him a wicker basket that has dirt caked into it. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think you could pull up those radishes for me please?” Nick stands still for a moment, trying his best to figure out what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> the leaf part of a radish looked like. Noticing that Nick hasn’t moved yet, Mercedes laughs lightly to herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mijo,</span>
  </em>
  <span> it’s that row. Over there.” She points over to a row of straight, double leaved plants.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right! Yeah I knew that, I was just looking for them.” Nick lies, not doing a great job of it. Making his way over the plants, Nick tries to remember if he’s ever eaten a radish before. It could’ve been in takeout before. That sounds like something that could be in stir fry or like… Nick decides that he’s probably never eaten a radish before, only because he picks around most of the vegetables in takeout. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>       Crouching down, Nick wraps a hand around the leaves of the plant, pulls and is met with much more resistances than he had expected. In cartoons and stuff it always looked so easy, this was more work than he’d thought he had agreed to. Being careful not to rip the leaves of the plant, Nick grasps the base of the leaves and tugs and tugs and tugs, until finally a satisfying </span>
  <em>
    <span>pop </span>
  </em>
  <span>is heard only by Nick. Immediately falling on his ass, laughter draws Nick’s attention from his defeat of this root. Nick turns around and holds up the radish triumphantly to Mercedes, who has been watching his process this whole time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna need to shower after this chico.” She manages between laughs. “And I’m gonna have to wash those pants.” Nick normally didn’t like showering at other people’s homes. Bathrooms were always so hard to figure out and then the fear of someone waking in was simply too much stress for when you're naked. Still, looking at the dirt between his nails and caking his feet, Nick agrees. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>       After going through the row, pulling up radishes that got easier and easier to yank as he went, Nick wipes the sweat off his brow. Looking over to Mercedes who had gotten all the tomatoes by now, he flashes her a grin, dirt covering his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I got 'em all. Is there anything else you need me to do or…” It was surprising to Nick how much he actually enjoyed doing this. Being in the dirt felt nice and the idea of being able to grow your own food felt so punk. Like a small way you can say “Fuck you capitalism! I’m not going to your stupid grocery stores, I’m self sufficient baby!”. That’s how it felt to him at least, he couldn’t speak for the Oak-Garcia’s.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No that should be all. Thank you Nicholas, you were a big help.” Nick normally didn’t like being called Nicholas, it felt too formal. He did make an exception for the twins, and now for Mercedes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you wanna go wash up and help me in the kitchen?” Almost as if on cue, the twins come bounding out of the house, waking up the dog who begins chasing them as well. Henry leans against the door frame, panting, watching as the twins literally run circles around him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, anything to not deal with </span>
  <em>
    <span>this.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Mercedes nods in agreement, giving Henry a reassuring pat on the butt as she walks by. Nick almost vomits in his mouth but he keeps it together as he follows Mercedes, basket of radishes in tow.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>COOKING WITH MERC NEXT CHAPTER!!! can i get a “hell yeah” boys? <br/>alternative titles for this chapter:<br/>Weird Hippies<br/>Are you my Mom?<br/>Nick plays in Dirt<br/>Squirrel Boys<br/>Treehouse of Terror</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Vegan = ???</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Nick learns to cook! Kinda. He learns more than that actually but ew, mushy feelings gross.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>cw: mild dysphoria in the beginning <br/>it's not like explicit but its still there</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Trying his best to not get dirt all over the Oak-Garcia’s floor, Nick follows Mercedes’s directions to the bathroom. Making a pit stop at the twins room to grab his soccer bag that contains a change of clothes, Nick reaches the bathroom. Like the rest of this hippie house, plants are scattered </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the bathroom. It makes sense to have plants in this room, the natural light coming from the sky light being enough to illuminate the entire room. Locking the door behind him, Nick is quick to turn on the shower, the dried mud on his fingers is starting to become annoying. After a long fight of trying to figure out </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>to turn on the shower, steam begins to fill the bathroom. Stepping under the scalding water, Nick watches the water turn brown around his feet. There’s something always so satisfying about taking a shower after making a mess. Made the shower feel earned. Taking showers after dying his hair or a particularly banging jam sesh always made Nick feel happy. That same feeling of satisfaction comes when Nick cleans himself of all the dirt and grime of the garden. Honestly surprised that the Oak-Garcia’s even use shampoo, Nick squirts way too much goo into his hand before lathering his hair. There’s a love-hate relationship Nick has with showers. On one hand they’re relaxing and a great place to think but when you shower you have to look at your body. Can’t really hide under a baggy shirt. Pushing the sudsy mohawk he has given himself under the shower head, Nick presses his eyes shut. If he pretends hard enough he can picture himself in the shower in his house. Being in a stranger's house always puts him on edge. Homebody is definitely a word Nick </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn't </span>
  </em>
  <span>use to describe himself but he fits the definition pretty well. Dragging a bar of soap with flowers suspended in it across his skin, Nick wishes he were home. Wishes he was on the couch with his dad, a greasy pizza between them and some action movie on the tv. Nick would give anything to be there right now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As the water starts to run cold, Nick takes that as his cue that he's done showering. Turning the squeaky handle of the faucet, Nick draws back the shower curtain, surprised to see a fluffy towel on the counter. Mercedes must have snuck in and brought him one. Thank God she did cause Nick had 100% forgot to grab one. Burying his face into the soft, earth green towel, Nick dries himself of the falling droplets. Digging around his soccer bag, Nick sighs. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>not wearing his binder again, who knows what else exercise the twins might force him to do. Nor is he wearing his sports bra, that thing reeked after soaking up a week's worth of soccer sweat. Pulling a loose gym shirt over his head, tugging it away as it sticks to his still damp skin, Nick frowns. No matter how many times he pulls the fabric away from his chest it always falls the same. Draping across him and highlighting all the parts he hates seeing in the mirror. Normally Nick would be perfectly fine with wearing a loose shirt around his house but there's the problem. He's not in </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>house. He's in the home of practical strangers. Crouching back down to his bag, having given up with fight this stupid shirt, Nick continues to dig through his bag. There </span>
  <em>
    <span>must </span>
  </em>
  <span>be something else he could wear. Finally Nick feels like he's been given a break as he catches the fabric of a hoodie. Grabbing a hoodie from his bag, a big grin spread across his face. It's one of Wilson's stupid gamer hoodies he managed to snag before Grant could get back to the locker room. Nick can't remember the last time he played Pokémon but there's something very comforting about seeing the yellow rat embroidered on the thick black fabric. Pulling the hoodie over his head, Nick zips up his bag and stands, grinning at how his friend’s large hoodie engulfs his body, hiding his stupid chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dropping his bag off, Nick is tempted to just hide in the twins room. Not go downstairs and help Mercedes cook. Lie and say he feels sick and just sleep until his dad comes to get him. Yet, something about how kind Mercedes has been treating him makes him come back to the kitchen. Glancing out the sliding glass door givess Nick a good view of the twins cackling at Henry, who appears to have a squirrel tangled in his hair while the FartBlaster69 is chasing him around the yard. Shaking his head at the strange sight, Nick walks toward the kitchen where he finds Mercedes quietly humming at the sink.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Um… thanks for the towel.” He says, catching Mercedes off guard off guard and making her jump slightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Goodness! You're a quiet one.” She laughs, turning off the facet and giving her full attention to Nick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, I'm used to the twins and their general loud energy. Your energy is much softer than theirs.” She explains, Nick somewhat understanding what she means but not quite.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad you're here to help though. I was just finishing up washing those radishes and then I was gonna make some hummus if you'd like to help with that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What's hummus?” Nick asks honestly, looking around the cluttered kitchen. An island sits in the middle of the room, more counter space than any homecook would know what to do with. Little knick knacks and trinkets decorate empty space between the upper cabinets and ceiling, a surprising amount of chickens. As Nick moves further into the kitchen he rolls his eyes at a board that reads “Animals are too Cute to Eat!”, an array of happy looking farm animals surrounding the words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you've never had hummus?” Mercedes cocks her head slightly, walking over to the island and picking up a bowl of what looks like tiny, weird cookie dough balls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hummus is ground up chickpeas, these are chickpeas. Wanna try em?” She holds the bowl out to Nick.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hesitantly, Nick picks up a chickpea out of the bowl and pops it into his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm… it sorta tastes like… nothing?” He concludes, pushing up the baggy sleeves of the hoodie, moving towards the sink to wash his hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well it’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>chickpeas, there’s seasoning in it too.” She explains, setting the glass bowl back down on the granite countertop. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>As Nick shakes the water from his hands, he’s given a towel to dry off. For a moment Nick finds himself standing awkwardly in the kitchen, not quite sure what to do. Now, Nick wouldn’t call himself a cook, a culinary scientist perhaps, but not a cook. The most cooking he does is putting a pizza in the oven or microwaving a frozen dinner. He’s perfected the craft of opening the microwave before the timer gets to zero but he’s never made an </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual </span>
  </em>
  <span>meal before. Never started with ingredients and used them to make food, minus baking pot brownies but even then, the boxed mix did a majority of the heavy lifting. There’s an almost overwhelming sense of responsibility that comes with cooking. Having to look for the right ingredients at the grocery store without looking like a lost child was difficult. Plus if he were to buy fresh produce there’s always the chance that he could wipe out on his board while trying to bring it home. Fruit snacks and veggie straws were close enough to the real thing anyway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nicholas, do you think you can fill this up with water for me?” Broken from his thoughts by the sweet voice of Mercedes, Nick takes a pot from her hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are we just eating hummus? Is hummus something you just eat on it’s own?” He asks, turning the faucet on and beginning to fill the pot with water.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mercedes laughs while dropping a few cloves of garlic into a food processor along with a strange looking white paste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The plan is to make pasta and have the hummus be the sauce. Though I guess you could eat hummus on its own if you’d like to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nick lugs the heavy pot of water over to the stove, watching as Mercedes liberally sprinkles salt into the water and turns on the burner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh cool, I like pasta.” There is something a little awkward about hanging out with his friend’s mom, though Nick doesn’t entirely mind having a break from the twins. It felt hard to think around the twins at times.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Following along with Mercedes’ instructions, Nick quickly finds himself falling into the rhythm of cooking. Having a teacher made things one hundred times better than the attempts he has made cooking before by himself. He’s always been more of a hands on learner anyway. Something about how patient and soft spoken Mercedes is makes Nick feel at ease too. Makes him feel like he can mess up and not get in trouble. So far Nick has learned his favorite thing about cooking is just having quiet time. Usually Nick hates the quiet of life. The empty noise of an empty house, the lull in conversation, the chatter of an audience between sets at a concert. All of it was just a drag, a bummer, lonely. The quiet of life makes him feel lonely. It was easy to not feel lonely surrounded by noise, that’s why he never let quiet creep into his life. Always has music playing in his earbuds, a movie playing in the background, a friend over, something to drown out the deafening silence of loneliness. Yet, the quiet of cooking isn’t lonely. Even though neither of them are speaking, Nick is reminded that Mercedes is there by the way the floor creaks as she walks behind him, a light hand on his shoulder as she passes. The soft chopping of vegetables makes a comforting noise, reminds him of the asmr videos he and Terry make fun of. Carefully tucking his fingers like Mercedes had taught him, Nick pushes the knife he’s been given through the last of the celery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m finished mo- Mercedes.” As the m-word almost slips from his mouth, Nick quickly catches the slip up and looks mortified. Nick has </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>called another woman “mom”, has only ever called Terry that as a joke but </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> has he ever called someone that on accident. Internally cringing at himself for even considering calling someone beside Morgan mom, because how could anyone else ever live up to that title in his mind, Nick doesn’t meet Mercedes eyes. Knows that she must have that look of pity everyone gets on their face when he mentions Morgan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, thank you hijo.” She hums, scooping the fresh cut sticks of celery into her hands. Nick's eyes move away from his hands to meet her’s, confusion as to why he isn’t being berated with apologies for a death that wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Instead of seeing that look of pity he just sees the same look of kindness and love Mercedes seems to have for everyone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you like to try the hummus?” She asks, dropping the stalks into a glass bowl where they make friends with baby carrots and cherry tomatoes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, um sure.” Nick shakes away the feelings that had started to well in his chest. Reaching for a baby carrot, Nick grabs a small glob of hummus from the food processor with the vegetable. Giving an exploratory sniff, Nick takes a bite of the carrot. Giving a few chews, Nick swallows and throws a forced smile on his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow! It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>good.” He lies, it tasted like mushy paste and the sweetness of the carrot didn’t help at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You hated it didn’t you?” Mercedes says with a laugh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How could you tell? I’m usually pretty good at lying to adults.” Nick jokes, laughing along with Mercedes as he pops the rest of the carrot into his mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When you’ve had practice with Lark and Sparrow’s level of lying, you get pretty good at spotting when someone is fibbing.” She explains, grabbing a container from the cupboard next to the dishwasher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can make a different sauce if hummus isn’t your thing, chico.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really don’t have too, Merc. I’m pretty good at eating things I don’t like, it’s not that big of a deal.” Nick tries to protest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No it’s alright Nicholas! You’re our guest, I’d hate to make you eat something you don’t enjoy. Plus, I believe that the noodles we made would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect </span>
  </em>
  <span>for mac and cheese.” As a mom you learn the certain keywords that tend to make kids excited, mac and cheese being one of those words.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Learning to make vegan “cheese” sauce was weird. A lot more nuts than he would have imagined. In the end it tastes </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>better than hummus so who cares if it has weird alien cheese in it. Though Nick is even more confused as to what is vegan now. His last guess of vegan meaning that you just ate bad tasting food is no longer correct as the bowtie noodle and cheese sauce fucking slaps. Though the weird tv static water the Oak-Garcia’s offer him sucks so much ass, thankfully with the combined power of the twins, he’s able to convince the adults to let them have actual soda. Weirdly enough the Oak-Garcia’s are a diet Mountain Dew family. Nick was expecting Sprite or Ginger Ale but this is much better. After eating a huge bowl of pasta and faux cheese, Nick finds a small ramekin of a saccharine smelling desert being set in front of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s this?” Nicks ask, the twins immediately digging into the steaming, cinnamon treat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Arroz con leche.” Mercedes answers simply, taking her spot next to Henry, who looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>grateful to be sitting down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a rice pudding.” She further explains, seeing the confused look on Nick’s face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, arroz means rice. Sorry, I’m lowkey failing Spanish right now.” He explains, digging a spoon into the sticky pudding. Blowing on the food before bringing it to his mouth, Nick melts when the taste hits his tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nick, language.” Henry manages to mumble, Nick takes note to ask the twins how he got the black eye after they put dishes away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's my abuela’s recipe, though modified to be vegan of course.” Mercedes explains, taking a small bite from her own ramekin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It's </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> good, Mercedes.” Nick hums, taking quick yet still slower bites than the twins. It doesn't make sense how they're not burning their mouths inhaling the steaming pudding. Nick isn't sure if he's ever had anything like this before. The closest thing he can compare it to is congee but congee is thicker than this and it's savory. It's sorta like congee but if someone made it with the milk from a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. A little more spice perhaps? There's more warm spices filling his senses than just cinnamon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“First!” The twins exclaim at the same time, slamming their spoons down in unison.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brother I hate to tell you but </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>called first, first. You were merely a second behind me which actually makes you second to finish.” Lark gloats, dodging out of Sparrow’s elbow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm sorry brother but actually it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>that was first. If you were to survey our witnesses,” he gestures to Nick, Mercedes and Henry, “they would all concur that I was first and it was you who was second.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Boys how about we don't do this tonight.” Mercedes asks politely, collecting the two empty ramekins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don't you two start with the dishes and once Nicholas is done eating you three can go wind down in your room?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The twins groans, having gotten over their small disagreement to come back together to fight the common enemy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Winding down.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother dearest,” starts Lark, “if we were to hypothetically </span>
  <em>
    <span>“wind down” </span>
  </em>
  <span>wouldn't that be a way of quieting our energy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And sweet mother,” continues Sparrow, “you tell us to let our energy shine bright and beautiful like we do, is this correct?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If you two go start the dishes I'll let you watch horror movies on my netflix account.” Nick slides in, saving Mercedes from having to question her parenting skills </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have a deal friend Nicholas!” Lark exclaims, reaching across the table to take the dirtied dishes back to the sink, Sparrow in tow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don't worry, I'll only let them watch the tame ones. Nothing that will give them ideas” Nick assures, continuing to eat his rice pudding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for that one, Nicholas.” Mercedes laughs, leaning over to ruffle Nick's hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Scrunching up his nose, immediately fixing his hair, Nick sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So… do you two know when my dad will be here?” He asks, his voice soft and dejected, a part of him already guessing what the answer might be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Last time he called he said he should be here sometime in the morning.” Henry answers, his head leaning on Mercedes' shoulder. Those two always seem like they need to be touching each other. Like there's two magnets inside them that need to be together at all times.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Figures.” Nick mutters, setting his spoon in his empty dish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… sorry for getting all mad and sh- stuff in the car. It's cool of you to let me stay and all that mushy junk.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you Nicholas, that's a very sweet thing to say.” Mercedes coos, flashing Nick that warm smile she seems so willing to share with the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We love having you over and anytime you need or want to stay the night, you're always welcomed here.” She assures.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Nick catches her eyes for a brief second and tries not to crumble. The look of sincerity and unconditional love in her gaze is almost too much for Nick to handle. That kind of pure, unadulterated love is only the love a parent could have for a child. A mother for a son. Quickly shifting his eyes back to his hands under the table, Nick gives a soft smile and slight head nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um… thanks. I-I should go fulfill my promise to the twins or they might try to hack my account.” He mumbles under his breath, pushing himself up from his spot at the dinner table.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The rest of the night was surprisingly quiet. Who knew that once you sit the two rambunctious twins in front of a blood filled, gore fest, they'd sit still. Though he found the seating arrangement strange. The three of them are nestled into the corner of Sparrows bed. Each twin leaning on Nick’s arm as he holds his phone between them. Though it wasn't uncomfortable, the intimacy of being cuddled by two people while watching the horny teen protagonists of Friday the 13th get hunted down by Jason. After about two movies Nick had realized that the two gremlins had drifted off to sleep, leaving him sandwiched between their forms. It's not even that late, barely even midnight. That's nowhere </span>
  <em>
    <span>close</span>
  </em>
  <span> to how late Nick stays up on most fridays. On most Fridays at midnight he'd be rocking out with his dad. Or they'd be discussing their new conspiracy theories. Or they'd be absolutely baked on the couch, Glenn telling Nick about a rager he went to “back in the good ol’ days”. About how he met Jack Black or Stevie Nicks. He does cool shit. Instead he's snuggling in a bunk bed, in the bottom bunk no less, with two sleepy tweens. To top it all off his phone battery is low. Not wanting to move, worried what chaos would come if he accidentally woke the two sleeping boys, Nick turns his phone off. Wedging himself deeper into the small horde of blankets and stuffed animals on Sparrow’s bed, Nick tucks his phone into his pocket. As he looks up into the wooden panels of the bunk, Nick is surprised to be met with glow-in-the-dark stars, scattered across the unstained wood. A faint smile spreads across his face, taking in a deep breath, his eyes drift softly closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I WROTE ANOTHER CHAPTER!!! are y'all proud of me??? i am uwu. anyway, time to go back into hiding and not update this fic for another couple of months</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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